Page 15 of Bratva's Captive

"Adalina," Martina whispers after we part, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief, "Do you have your fake ID with you?"

"I always carry it. Why?" I inquire, intrigued by her suggestion.

"Let's sneak out of here. There's a popular club nearby that we can walk to. You need a bachelorette party!" she proposes, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"But my fake ID is from New York," I express my concern.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Martina reassures me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. The thought of a bachelorette party fills me with anticipation. Maybe, just for tonight, I can escape the weight of my impending marriage to Mario and let go.

"We shouldn't waste that hot dress on this lame mobster party. Come on, Adalina, let's go. We'll head towards the Ladies Lounge, then veer off to the elevators and sneak out through the lobby," Martina proposes, her voice filled with determination.

"What if someone catches us?" I inquire, a mix of thrill and anxiety coursing through my veins.

"Everyone is too drunk to notice. Let's have some fun, just you and me, sipping mixed drinks and dancing without the prying eyes of bodyguards in the windy city. Let's go!" Martina grabs my hand, and we navigate our way through the party guests, avoiding the watchful gaze of the mafia soldiers.

I eagerly nod in agreement, my heart racing, and follow Martina as we slip away from the party. We maneuver past security and our families, feeling the surge of adrenaline fueling our escape.

It proves easier than I had anticipated, and we go unnoticed.

As we step out of the hotel lobby onto Michigan Avenue, the neon lights and the vibrant energy of the city envelop us. The warm breeze against my skin feels liberating, and a smile dances upon my lips. We blend into the bustling crowds, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air. It's an exhilarating feeling to be out and about, free from the confines of my family's expectations and the impending marriage that hangs over me.

Martina guides us to a club just a block away from the hotel. As we approach the club's line, a couple of older guys allow us to cut in front of them in exchange for a dance. We oblige, handing our fake IDs to the bouncers and entering the club without a hitch.

Inside, the pulsating music reverberates through the air, accompanied by the flashing lights. The crowd comprises both locals and tourists, creating an electric atmosphere. The dance floor is packed, with bodies swaying and grinding to the beat. The scent of alcohol and perspiration hangs in the air.

The long glass bar buzzes with activity, as bartenders skillfully mix cocktails and pour shots. People laugh, chat, and flirt with one another over their drinks, struggling to be heard amidst the booming music.

Martina leads me through the throng of people to the bar, where we order our first drink. I take a sip of the fruity cocktail, feeling the pleasant burn as it cascades down my throat. It's refreshing to let go, if only for a moment, and forget about the weight of my problems.

With a mischievous grin, Martina pulls me toward the crowded dance floor. The energy emanating from the dancing bodies envelops us. Men clad in suits or jeans, and women wearing daring outfits, come together in rhythm. We start to move, the music drowning out our thoughts, and we revel in the fun and freedom of the moment. There is no room for worrying, only the desire to dance and momentarily escape the impending marriage that looms over me.

As we sway to the music, a group of guys catches our attention. They exude charm and are impeccably dressed. They approach us, and soon we find ourselves dancing and laughing together, relishing the newfound sense of freedom and their attention.

As the night goes on, we drink more and dance harder. I don’t even care who I am dancing with. I am grinding on my male partner. My eyes are closed as I get lost in the beat. I feel like a different person, free from the constraints of my mafia family and my arranged marriage. I forget about everything and just live in the moment.

Chapter 9

Nikolai

While Misha and I enjoy a late dinner at an upscale restaurant in downtown Chicago, I receive a phone call from one of my soldiers stationed at the hotel where the engagement party is taking place. He informs me that two young girls, including Adalina, have managed to sneak out of the hotel and are now at a nearby club. As soon as the soldier finishes speaking, I slam my fork down on the plate, the sound reverberating through the restaurant. My mind races, formulating a plan. I hope that her fiancé has joined her. This could be my opportunity to confront Alfonso alone, to show him and the Outfit that I am not someone to be trifled with. Misha swiftly settles the bill, and we rush to the club in the Range Rover.

Upon arriving at the club, a surge of adrenaline courses through me. Misha and I swiftly make our way to the bar and order drinks. I immediately scan the crowd, searching for the two girls. I spot them, dancing and laughing, clearly having indulged in more than a few drinks. All I need to do now is wait for Alfonso to make an appearance. This is my moment.

As the night progresses, there is no sign of Alfonso. Frustration begins to mount within me. Had I missed my chance? Was he not planning to show up at all?

My attention is drawn to Adalina on the dance floor, grinding against another girl. The club echoes with applause and cheers from the men observing them. She wears a tight pink dress that clings to her body, swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music. I find myself unable to look away, captivated by her sensual movements. Her long, dark hair frames her face, cascading around her as she dances. Every so often, she glances in my direction, offering a playful smile accompanied by a mischievous glimmer in her eye. She certainly knows how to flirt.

Fuck, Adalina is even more stunning than I had anticipated. She possesses all the desirable traits for a quick fling – an hourglass figure, long hair to grip tightly, luscious lips to engulf my cock, and shapely legs to wrap around me as I thrust into her tight pussy. As I watch the 18-year-old dance, I can't help but imagine what it would be like to fuck her, to experience her voluptuous body against mine. The thought is simultaneously thrilling and dangerous. Hm, I should keep my distance. Engaging in a sexual encounter with the fiancée of an enemy is playing with fire, and it could have disastrous consequences. Well, I do enjoy a good bonfire. I thrive on chaos. Time for Plan B. I no longer want Alfonso to appear.

She is far too beautiful for Alfonso.

Suddenly, my attention is drawn to a man, the corporate asshole type, who is getting too close to Adalina, his hands lingering on her ass. No fucking way! I see the fear in her eyes, and a surge of anger powers through me. I move toward the lecherous fucker, pushing my way through the crowded bar and onto the dance floor. I firmly grasp his shoulder, causing him to turn around in surprise. As he glimpses the expression on my face, he quickly takes a step back, slinking away into the crowd.

Without saying a word, I extend my hand, and she willingly takes it. Adalina's cheeks flush with a hint of color. I firmly grasp her by the waist, pulling her closer to me. Pressing her back against my chest, we sway to the rhythm of the music. Her fragrance is delicate and alluring, tempting my senses. I struggle to resist the rising arousal within me. As she provocatively grinds her exquisite backside against my crotch, it becomes clear that this is an unmistakable invitation. I guide her in a spin, positioning her to face me, our lips mere inches apart. Holding her tightly, we spend the following hour completely immersed in the dance, lost in the moment. A protective instinct washes over me as I hold Adalina close.

Adalina

As Martina and I dance with abandon, I feel a sense of freedom I have never experienced before. No longer am I the obedient daughter, the dutiful fiancée, but a young woman enjoying her last few moments of freedom.

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